Surrender (23 page)

24-Your Time Now

The flame flickered and the man gripped the cot below him even tighter. The Ferryman Krishani followed in his dreams glanced at the flame, then back at the man on the cot. He was covered in blood, breathing in spurts, seizing from the pain.

The Ferryman bent his head as the candle flickered again, almost snuffing out. He heaved a sigh and took the man’s hand. He gripped it and waited. Another tremor shot through the man’s body. The Ferryman gripped tighter, the flame flickered again, and the man on the cot screamed.

Krishani floated by the man’s feet. He watched the scene for too long, waiting for the man on the cot to die. It took forever. Krishani cringed as the man kicked and let out another agonizing roar. The Ferryman tried to sooth him using a language Krishani didn’t know. He repeated the words over and over until the man went limp, wispy smoke rising from his body. Krishani watched it with wonder, and turned towards the Ferryman.

“And so you visit me again, young one,” the Ferryman said. He grabbed a rag from the bottom of the cot and exited the tent into the wastelands outside, the ground wet and mucky. It was windy, shouts hitting the air from every direction. The Ferryman’s boots squished with every step as he went to the next tent to find the next fatally-wounded warrior. Krishani floated along the ground, following the Ferryman.

“I don’t know why I’m here,” Krishani said. He would rather leave the man alone than watch him tend to the dead. The Ferryman stopped in the middle of the mucky field, and looked at him. It was nightfall; behind him a fire burned brightly in the distance, a village. He turned his thoughts to the smell of smoke and gazed towards the blaze far away.

“Oh, that. There’s a war in these parts. You like death?” the Ferryman said. He looked at the ground and continued towards another tent.

Krishani knew the smoke wasn’t caused by the fire alone. He smelled souls rising into the air, seeking to escape the mortal plane. He shuddered and continued to drift behind the Ferryman.

“Ignore those sounds. They’ll corrupt your heart.” The Ferryman ducked inside. A woman in armor lay on a cot, blood leaking out beneath her and onto the floor. Her blue eyes trembled, but her body lay still. Her hands piled on her stomach as if she were already at her funeral. The Ferryman gazed into her eyes and she relaxed. He whispered something to her in her native tongue and she grimaced, nodded. The Ferryman began muttering an incantation under his breath.

Krishani watched from the doorway and felt sick as the woman’s body began to convulse. Despite trying to look away, he couldn’t. He
had
to see what was happening.

The Ferryman’s words spilled out of his mouth quicker, his voice louder. Krishani wanted to close his eyes, but they were glued open by the intensity of the vexatious energy around them. The woman was quiet, even though her body violently seized.

The Ferryman continued, and Krishani heard voices outside the tent. They were coming closer. He didn’t need to look at them to know they were enemies coming to finish off the job. He knew from their cries they wanted to savor every last bit of bloodshed. He stiffened as the Ferryman raised his voice, almost screaming the words. And then the woman’s hand dropped. Her body went limp and it smoked like all the others, thin wispy white smoke rising towards the roof. The Ferryman bent his head and recited what sounded like a blessing.

When he stood, he grimaced. “Don’t let the work get to you. Marry the land, take the journey. You’ll find similar sorry sites, I’m sure. You have to surrender everything you are for this work. But don’t worry, you were born for it.” He turned towards the back of the tent and lifted the side flap to escape the enemies on the opposite side. Krishani followed and trekked across the battlefield towards a lone tree in the distance.

“What is this work?” Krishani asked. His heart dropped at the word ‘surrender.’ All his life he had been told the same thing. Now the Ferryman said it, too. He listened to the commotion around, his heart thrumming. There was another person near death by the tree. He felt them squirming in agony, about to die.

The Ferryman laughed while Krishani looked at the muck on his feet. “The work of a Ferryman, the lands need them at all times. I thought I would always be one, except you’ve been following me, which means I’m probably going to die soon.” He talked about death like it was a righteous part of living, like he wasn’t afraid of it in the least. He walked towards a patch of trees on the field. The men who caused the bloodshed were close by.

“What do you mean I was born for it?” Krishani choked as he tried to ward off the sickness he felt.

The Ferryman continued without an answer. He reached a grassier patch of land, the mud from his boots smearing onto the emerald blades. A warrior was within the trees, spread on the ground, an arrow sticking out of his chest. He quickened his pace, knelt at the man’s side, and whispered a few words in his ear. The warrior clasped his hands around the arrow protruding from his body. The Ferryman gently moved his hands away, replacing them with his own. He closed his eyes and pulled, blood gushing out of the wound.

Krishani staggered back, dizzy. He watched the wispy smoke curl around the branches. No matter how many times he saw death, it still left him shocked and frightened. He looked at the Ferryman, who recited a similar incantation as the one in the tent. When he was finished, he pulled the man’s eyelids closed and looked at Krishani.

“You’re a Ferryman.” His tone was blunt, unwavering.

Krishani felt like he had been stabbed in the chest. “I’m a Child of Avristar.”

The Ferryman ignored him, pulling a pocket knife from his breeches. He turned to the enemies. The Ferryman pierced one of them in the gut as the others continued running across the field. The man fell and then scrambled to his feet to flee. Krishani turned to see the Ferryman stagger and fall backwards. Blood poured from a wound on his side. Krishani drifted to him. Feeling a mix of confusion and anxiety, he dropped to his knees. His eyes surveyed the wound and the blood, the soul inside restless to escape the body. He trembled as he took the Ferryman’s hand in his own and stared into his eyes.

“It’s your time now,” Krishani said.

“It’s your time now,” the Ferryman repeated. His head slumped into the grass, his eyes frozen. Krishani let out a sob as the wispy smoke began rising out of the Ferryman. He hung his head and recited a blessing from his childhood. Everything happened too fast; he was unprepared. Shaken with grief, he wanted to return home, stay on Avristar, but he knew the chances were slim.

He opened his eyes and saw sheets below him. He sat and glanced around the room, making sure none of the enemies had followed him. There was nothing but silence, no wispy smoke, no battle cries. He exhaled and tossed the blanket aside and buried his head in his hands.

The Ferryman is dead
…
and I’m the next.

His body ached as he stood and paced the room. He felt flush with fear, resentment, and anger for the carelessness of the Ferryman. He put his hands behind his head and squeezed his eyes shut. This couldn’t be happening. First Kaliel and now him? His life was unraveling before he had a chance to live it. He let out a long exhale and looked at the bed. He could try to rest and pretend it didn’t happen, but he was afraid he would be brought back to the same place. He shook his head and fled into the corridors, moving quickly towards the orchards.

The moon hung above the trees, showering the apples in silvery moonlight. His heart thumped as fast as a rabbit as the depth of the dream hit him. He walked through the rows and rows of apple trees, stretching his fingers out to brush the leaves as he passed. He paused beside one of the trees and reached down to pick up an apple. He couldn’t organize his thoughts enough to speak, so he stood there with the jumbled mess of words in his head. He glanced at the moon.

“It was only a dream.” He tried to convince himself, but he knew it wasn’t true. There had been so many of these dreams, each one following the same Ferryman, the same work. He barely understood the reason he was chosen, but he knew what the work entailed. He shuddered at the thought of it.

He hung his head and looked at the grassy path at his feet. An overwhelming feeling of helplessness washed over him as he reluctantly turned back to the castle. He looked at the widened path between the trees and saw a figure standing on the main road. She was a silhouette under the night sky, but Krishani knew who it was. He begrudgingly dragged himself towards her as she crossed her arms and waited.

• • •

“It’s too late to be out, Lady,” Krishani said.

Atara sighed. She had sensed his grief from her quarters and came to find out what the matter was. There had been plenty of other nights like this one since Kaliel had gone to Nandaro, but this was the first time she planned on confronting Krishani about it. Their relationship was something she didn’t want to prevent. It was so easy to watch the feorns fall in love, easy to watch the fae play their games, but the elvens with their stoic attitude and attention to detail and duty? It wasn’t forbidden as much as it was unheard of. She might have been arranged to marry Istar because of their sovereignty to the land, but the heart was complex. Krishani’s connection to Kaliel went further than his physical form—she was in his soul. “Aye, too late,” she said. “Why are you here?”

“Only a nightmare. I’m sorry to disturb you,” he said.

Atara took a deep breath. “Istar says you have many of those. Tell me, what are they about?” She eyed the boy and felt guilty for sending Kaliel away. In the weeks the girl had been gone, Krishani had grown melancholy. She worried about him and the overwhelming grief leaking off his aura in bright flares.

Krishani shook his head and tried to step around her. “I watched someone die.”

Atara shivered, partially from the cool air, and partially from the words of her partner’s apprentice. She turned and watched him quicken his pace. “Stop,” she called after him. There was something behind his eyes; a different sort of sorrow he had been struck with, like an arrow to his heart.

Krishani paused and clenched his fist. He turned around. “What will you have me say?”

“A dream is not always dream. Tell me what happened.” She clasped her hands together and held them in front of her. She wanted to believe the corruption in the Lands of Men would come to an end, that the Valtanyana would be silenced before they could gain enough power to destroy entire realms. She wanted to believe in peace and she wanted to live in her dreamy fairytale life, a life that stretched centuries behind her, a life that hadn’t seen war since the First Era.

Krishani looked at the moat and then back at the elder like he was contemplating his words. “I watched the Ferryman die.”

Every part of him broke as he admitted it. He turned back to the moat. She froze. Another death. What Istar said was true—the Valtanyana were out there. She recalled her last conversation with Istar—the boy was a Ferryman. The dream was his calling. Compassion flooded her heart. “Oh child, I’m so sorry.”

“I know,” he whispered.

She knew what he wanted her to tell him—the same thing she had longed to tell Kaliel about Lotesse— tell them it was all a dream. There was nothing to worry about in the Lands of Men, nothing to be afraid of. But none of that was true. For now, Avristar was in peace, but for how much longer, she didn’t know.

“You know what this will mean,” she said. She thought back to Krishani’s childhood and the rumors of his greatness. He was one of the chosen ones from the beginning. He had a purpose to fulfill.

“Kaliel …” Krishani took a step towards the moat, paused and met Atara’s eyes. “Do you think there’s a chance?” There was a weak sense of hope in his voice.

Atara sighed. “Nay, your destiny is greater than your love.” She said the words because they were the truth, but the way he looked at her like it was poison washing over him made her wish she hadn’t said it at all. He turned towards the castle and walked in silence.

* * *